


A Russian Inwention

by SherlockedTrekkie



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedTrekkie/pseuds/SherlockedTrekkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starships need seat belts. Somehow only Chekov realizes this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Russian Inwention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmemulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmemulder/gifts).



Chekov groans loudly as he tries to push himself up from the floor of the bridge. Pain shoots through his arm and head and he collapses in on himself, barely managing to stifle a whimper.

“Sulu! Damage report!” The captain commands, climbing back into his chair. Sulu jumps back into his chair, fingers darting across his console. Moments later a clear picture of three Klingon ships materializes on the main screen.

“Shields at 30 percent, Captain,” Sulu says after a moment, “There are damage reports coming in from all over the ship. We can only take another couple hits like that.”

“Kirk to engineering,” Kirk says, hitting his comm with a fist.

“Scott here.”

“Can you do anything to boost shields?”

“I can try,” Scotty responds, “But we really cannae take another hit like that. You’re going to have to get us out of this one yourself.”

“Understood. Kirk out.”

Chekov groans again as a bead of blood runs down his face and drips onto the floor. Kirk’s eyes eyes widen as he strikes the comm button once more.

“Kirk to McCoy - medical emergency on the bridge!” He jumps out of his chair to sit beside the shivering ensign.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be ok,” the captain assures, “McCoy is on his way. He’ll patch you up in no time.”

Chekov whines in response and the world goes dark.

***

He wakes up to fluorescent lights and soft beeping noises, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

“I” he starts.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Nurse Chapel says, walking over to his biobed. She quickly scans him with her tricorder and records the information in the patient database on her PADD.

“How long…?”

“You’ve only been unconscious for a few hours. The doctor was able to fix your broken arm with no lasting damage, but you have a concussion from hitting your head when you fell. He fixed the reparable damage, but he wants you to take two days off to rest before resuming your post.”

Chekov nods, “What about… my headache…?”

“That could last another day, at the most,” Chapel says, “You’ll be good as new by the time you’re back on the bridge but I’d like to monitor you for another few hours, just in case.”

“Aye,” Chekov agrees.

Chapel smiles, “I’d suggest getting some sleep. Concussions are best dealt with unconsciousness.”

Chekov grins, “I can do zat.”

The nurse taps the wall-comm, “Computer, lower lights to 50 percent.”

She turns back to the ensign, “I’ll check on you in two hours.”

***

Chekov wakes up, head still spinning slightly, but better than before.

“Nurse?” he calls.

“Yes?” Chapel answers, walking into the room from McCoy’s office.

“Can I go now?”

Chapel takes a final tricorder reading and nods, “If you’re feeling up to it, of course. Don’t hesitate to contact sickbay if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Chekov says, swinging his legs off the biobed. It takes a few tries to stand up without swaying, but after a minute he is able to walk out of the room without trouble. He waves to Chapel as the doors whoosh shut behind him.

***

Chekov reaches his quarters and goes straight to his desk, punching the comm button before sitting down.

“Chekov to Scott.”

The engineer’s face fills the computer screen, “Chekov! How are you doing? I heard there was some excitement on the bridge this morning.”

Chekov sighs, “That’s certainly one way to put it…” He trails off, rubbing at his arm absentmindedly.

Scotty frowns, “Is there something you need? If you’re wondering exactly how the captain got us out of that crazy Klingon trap, I’m afraid I’m not much help. All I know is that after that last hit he pulled some stunt to get us outta there.”

Chekov chuckles, “No, nothing like that. I can ask Sulu about it later. I was just wondering if you could help me out with an… engineering project.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Scotty says, “Do you want to start tomorrow? Say, 0900 in engineering?”

“Perfect,” Chekov agrees, “I’ll see you then.”

***

Chekov awakes to a message on his personal PADD from the chief engineer.

_“That Klingon attack yesterday was worse than we originally thought - I’m going to have to push our meeting to tomorrow. Same time, same place. I sincerely apologize. -- M. Scott”_

“Of course…” Chekov grumbles, dropping the PADD back onto his desk. He crosses the room, falls into bed, and goes back to sleep.

***

When Chekov wakes up later that afternoon he sketches out a number of ideas but is never quite satisfied with what he comes up with. He deletes all but one of the files, keeping the one labeled “ _TOP SECRET PROJECT_.” He giggles to himself as he encrypts the file and sends a message to engineering.

_“Sorry I missed you this morning - I figured out what I need, so a meeting about my project is unnecessary. On a related note, I may need to borrow a few things from engineering, if you don’t mind. -- P. Chekov”_

A reply comes back almost instantly.

_“I’ll tell Lieutenant Riley to give you whatever you need. Just don’t take anything too important. -- M. Scott”_

Chekov giggles to himself again as he answers Scotty’s message.

_“Absolutely. Thanks again. -- P. Chekov”_

***

Chekov goes back to the bridge the next morning carrying a mostly-empty bag under his arm. Sulu gives him a questioning look but is met by nothing but a grin.

“It's nice to have you back, Chekov,” Kirk says.

“It’s nice to be back, Keptin,” the ensign replies. He sits down at his console and places the bag by his feet. He runs diagnostics until the rest of the bridge crew is distracted then leans down to his supplies. He suppresses a laugh as he gets to work on his project. After he finishes he stashes his remaining supplies under his console and sits back up in his chair, making sure to keep his face expressionless.

Not ten minutes later the ship is rocked by a blast. Sulu and the captain are again thrown from their seats while Chekov remains stationary. He smiles to himself and quickly pilots the ship away from the anomaly.

“Orders, Keptin?” Chekov asks. Kirk gets up from the floor and frowns at the ensign.

“How are you…?” Chekov smirks in response and turns back to the console.

“We have been hit by… something…” he says, “However, it is as yet unclear as to what it was.”

Kirk nods, eyes scanning the bridge for injured officers, “Keep me informed.” He sits back in the command chair and crosses his legs. He speaks up a few minutes later.

“Chekov?”

“Yes, Keptin?”

“Can you… stand up?”

“Keptin?”

Kirk draws a hand across his face, “Just… humor me. Please.” Chekov takes a deep breath.

“I… can’t.”

“Why not?” Kirk sighs.

“I wanted a seat belt.”

“A seat…” Kirk trails off, “Chekov what did you do?”

“I… um… I used Mister Scott’s duct tape.”

“You… Ok…”

“I can get out of it!” Chekov affirms, squirming in his chair, “It just might take me a minute. This is stronger than I expected.”

“You used his special heavy-duty tape, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…”

Kirk nods slowly, “You actually might need help getting out of that. It’s impossible to cut with anything but a laser.”

“What?” Chekov asks.

“You heard me,” the captain says, “I’m calling Bones.” Kirk punches the comm on the arm of his chair.

“Kirk to sickbay.”

“Chapel here.”

“We have an… interesting problem on the bridge. Tell Bones to bring a laser-scalpel that can cut through Scotty’s reinforced duct tape.”

Chapel hesitates before responding, “He’s on his way. Oh, and tell Chekov I said hi!” The ensign rolls his eyes as Kirk ends the call.

The turbolift doors slide open and the doctor steps onto the bridge.

“Who here needs my _medical_ expertise?” McCoy says with a sneer.

“Who do you think?” Kirk says, gesturing to Chekov.

“I should have guessed,” McCoy laughs, “If I were thrown around on the bridge all the time I’d do the same thing. Somehow I expected this to be you, though, Jim.”

Kirk glares at his friend, “Just get him out of that tape. And fast.”

“Why the hurry?” the doctor asks.

“It’s Scotty’s special tape,” the captain explains, “It has a low-level corrosive in the glue that helps it stick to metal. I’ve been told it’s not great when it comes in contact with skin. Or clothing, for that matter.”

“Got it,” McCoy says, moving to Chekov’s side to start working on the tape.

“Whatever you do,” he tells the ensign, “Don’t. Move.”

“Understood,” Chekov replies. A minute later the tape is gone and his legs are tingling.

“Take him to sickbay,” Kirk orders.

McCoy nods, helping Chekov out of his chair and over to the turbolift. Before the doors shut, Kirk calls engineering.

“Hey Scotty, do you know how to make a seatbelt?”


End file.
